Johann Strauss II, son of the first Johann Strauss, was born in Vienna
on October 25, 1825. Though he showed an unmistakable bent for music
from his childhood on, he was forbidden by his father to study music or
to indulge in any musical activity whatsoever. The young Johann Strauss,
encouraged by his mother, was forced to study the violin surreptitiously
with a member of his father’s orchestra. Only after the father had
deserted his family, to set up another home with his mistress, did young
Johann begin to devote himself completely and openly to music. After
studying the violin with Kohlmann and counterpoint with Joseph
Drechsler, he made his debut as a café-house conductor and composer at
Dommayer’s Casino in Hietzing, near Vienna, on October 15, 1844. The
event was widely publicized and dramatized in Vienna, since the son was
appearing as a rival to his father. For this momentous debut, the son
wrote the first of his waltzes—the _Gunstwerber_ and the
_Sinngedichte_—which aroused immense enthusiasm. He had to repeat the
last-named waltz so many times that the people in the café lost count.
“Ah, these Viennese,” reported the editor of _The Wanderer_. “A new
waltz player, a piece of world history. Good night, Lanner. Good
evening, Father Strauss. Good morning, Son Strauss.” The father had not
attended this performance, but learned of his son’s triumph from one of
his cronies.
Thus a new waltz king had arisen in Vienna. His reign continued until
the end of the century. For fifty years Johann Strauss II stood alone
and unequalled as the musical idol of Vienna. His performances were the
talk of the town. His own music was on everyone’s lips. After the death
of father Strauss in 1849, he combined members of the older man’s
orchestra with his own, and toured all of Europe with the augmented
ensemble. From 1863 to 1870 he was conductor of the Viennese balls, a
post once held by his father. In 1872 he made sensational appearances in
Boston and New York. All the while he was writing some of the most
famous waltzes ever written, as well as quadrilles and polkas and other
dance pieces. And in 1871, with the première in Vienna of _Indigo_ he
entered upon a new field, that of the operetta, in which once again he
was to become a dominating figure. He was admired not merely by the
masses but also by some of the greatest musicians of his
generation—Brahms, Wagner, Verdi, Hans von Buelow, Offenbach, Goldmark,
Gounod, all of whom expressed their admiration for his music in no
uncertain terms. In 1894, Vienna celebrated the 50th anniversary of his
debut with a week of festive performances; congratulations poured into
Vienna from all parts of the civilized world. He died five years after
that—in Vienna on June 3, 1899—and was buried near Schubert, Beethoven,
and Brahms.
It is perhaps singularly fitting that Johann Strauss should have died in
1899. A century was coming to an end, and with it an entire epoch. This
is what one court official meant when he said that “Emperor Francis
Joseph reigned until the death of Johann Strauss.” History, with its
cold precision, may accurately record that the reign of Francis Joseph
actually terminated in 1916. But its heyday had passed with the 19th
century. The spirit of old Vienna, imperial Vienna of the Hapsburgs, the
Vienna that had been inspiration for song and story, died with Johann
Strauss. After 1900, Vienna was only a shadow of its former self, and
was made prostrate by World War I.
If the epoch of “old Vienna” died with Johann Strauss, it was also born
with him. After 1825, the social and intellectual climate in the
imperial city changed perceptibly. The people, always gay, now gave
themselves up to frivolity. For this, political conditions had been
responsible. The autocratic rule of Francis I brought on tyranny,
repression, and an army of spies and informers. As a result, the
Viennese went in for diversions that were safe from a political point of
view: flirtation, gossip, dancing. They were partial to light musical
plays and novels. Thus, an attitude born out of expediency, became, with
the passing of time, an inextricable part of everyday life in Vienna.
Of the many light-hearted pleasures in which the Viennese indulged none
was dearer to them than dancing. It has been recorded that one out of
every four in Vienna danced regularly. They danced the polka, and the
quadrille; but most of all they danced the waltz.
Johann Strauss II was the genius of the Viennese waltz. More than
anybody before him or since he lifted the popular dance to such artistic
importance that his greatest waltzes are often performed at symphony
concerts by the world’s greatest orchestras under the foremost
conductors. Inexhaustible was his invention; richly inventive, his
harmonic writing; subtle and varied his gift at orchestration; fresh and
personal his lyricism; aristocratic his structure. To the noted 20th
century German critic, Paul Bekker, the Strauss waltz contained “more
melodies than a symphony of Beethoven, and the aggregate of Straussian
melodies is surely greater than the aggregate of Beethoven’s.”
Actually the waltz form used by Strauss is basically that of Lanner and
of Strauss’ own father. A slow symphonic introduction opens the waltz.
This is followed by a series of waltz melodies (usually five in number).
A symphonic coda serves both as a kind of summation and as a conclusion.
But here the similarity with the past ends. This form received from the
younger Strauss new dimension, new amplification. His introductions are
sometimes like tone poems. The waltz melodies are incomparably rich in
thought and feeling, varied in mood and style. A new concept of thematic
developments enters waltz writing with Strauss. And his codas, as his
introductions, are symphonic creations built with consummate skill from
previously stated ideas, or fragments of these ideas. No wonder, then,
that the waltzes of Johann Strauss have been described as “symphonies
for dancing.”
The following are the most popular of the Johann Strauss waltzes:
_Acceleration_ (_Accelerationen_), op. 234, as the title indicates,
derives its effect from the gradual acceleration in tempo in the main
waltz melody. Strauss had promised to write a waltz for a ball at the
Sofiensaal but failed to deliver his manuscript even at the zero hour.
Reminded of his promise, he sat down at a restaurant table on the night
of the ball and hurriedly wrote off the complete _Acceleration Waltz_ on
the back of a menu card, and soon thereafter conducted the première
performance.
_Artist’s Life_ (_Kuenstlerleben_), op. 316, opens in a tender mood. A
transition is provided by an alternation of soft and loud passages,
after which the first waltz melody erupts zestfully as a tonal
expression of the lighthearted gaiety of an artist’s life. A similar
mood is projected by the other waltz melodies.
_The Blue Danube_ (_An der schoenen blauen Donau_), op. 314, is perhaps
the most famous waltz ever written, and one of the greatest. It is now a
familiar tale how Brahms, while autographing a fan of Strauss’ wife,
scribbled a few bars of this waltz and wrote underneath, “alas, not by
Brahms.” Strauss wrote _The Blue Danube_ at the request of John Herbeck,
conductor of the Vienna Men’s Singing Society; thus the original version
of the waltz is for chorus and orchestra, the text being a poem by Karl
Beck in praise of Vienna and the Danube. Strauss wrote this waltz in
1867, and it was introduced on February 15 of the same year at the
Dianasaal by Strauss’ orchestra, supplemented by Herbeck’s singing
society. The audience was so enthusiastic that it stood on the seats and
thundered for numerous repetitions. In the Spring of 1867, Strauss
introduced his waltz to Paris at the International Exposition where it
was a sensation. A tremendous ovation also greeted it when Strauss
performed it for the first time in London, at Covent Garden in 1869.
When Johann Strauss made his American debut, in Boston in 1872, he
conducted _The Blue Danube_ with an orchestra numbering a thousand
instruments and a chorus of a thousand voices! Copies of the music were
soon in demand in far-off cities of Asia and Australia. The publisher,
Spina, was so deluged by orders he had to have a hundred new copper
plates made from which to print over a million copies.
It is not difficult to see why this waltz is so popular. It is an
eloquent voice of the “charm, elegance, vivacity, and sophistication” of
19th century Vienna—so much so that it is second only to Haydn’s
Austrian National Anthem as the musical symbol of Austria.
_Emperor Waltz_ (_Kaiserwalz_), op. 437, was written in 1888 to
celebrate the 40th anniversary of the reign of Franz Joseph I. This is
one of Strauss’ most beautiful waltzes. A slow introduction spanning
seventy-four bars that has delicacy and grace, and is of a stately
march-like character, is Viennese to its very marrow. A suggestion of
the main waltz tune then appears quickly but is just as quickly
dismissed by a loud return of the main introductory subject. Trombones
lead to a brief silence. After some preparation, a waltz melody of rare
majesty finally unfolds in the strings. If this wonderful waltz melody
can be said to represent the Emperor himself then the delightful waltz
tunes that follow—some of almost peasant character—can be said to speak
for the joy of the Austrian people in honoring their beloved monarch. An
elaborate coda then comes as the crown to the whole composition.
_Morning Journals_ (_Morgenblaetter_), op. 279, was written for a
Viennese press club, the Concordia. Offenbach had previously written for
that club a set of waltzes entitled “_Evening Journals_.” Strauss
decided to name his music _Morning Journals_. The Offenbach composition
is today remembered only because it provided the stimulus for Strauss’
title. But Strauss’ music remains—the four waltzes in his freshest and
most infectious lyric vein, and its introduction highlighted by a melody
of folk song simplicity.
_Roses from the South_ (_Rosen aus dem Sueden_), op. 388, is a potpourri
of the best waltz tunes (each a delight) from one of the composer’s
lesser operettas, _Spitzentuch der Koenigen_ (_The Queen’s Lace
Handkerchief_). The “south” in the title refers to Spain, the background
of the operetta, but there is nothing Spanish to this unmistakably
Viennese music.
_Tales from the Vienna Woods_ (_G’schichten aus dem Wiener Wald_), op.
325—performed for the first time by the Strauss orchestra at the _Neue
Welt_ café in 1868—is a bucolic picture of Nature’s beauty in the
forests skirting Vienna. The beauty of Nature is suggested in the
stately introduction with its open fifths and its serene melody for
cello followed by a flute cadenza. All the loveliness of the Vienna
woods is then represented by a waltz melody (originally scored for
zither, but now most often presented by strings), a loveliness that is
carried on with incomparable grace and charm by the ensuing waltz tunes.
_Vienna Blood_ (_Wiener Blut_), op. 354, like so many other Strauss
waltzes, is a hymn of praise to Strauss’ native cities; but where other
waltzes are light and carefree, this one is more often moody, dreamy,
and at times sensual. After the introduction come four waltz melodies,
the first full of fire and the last one touched with sentimentality. The
second and third waltz tunes are interesting for their rhythmic vitality
and marked syncopations.
_Voices of Spring_ (_Fruehlingstimmen_), op. 410—dedicated to the
renowned Viennese pianist, Albert Gruenfeld—is (like the _Tales from the
Vienna Woods_) an exuberant picture of the vernal season, the joy and
thrill that the rebirth of Nature always provides to the Viennese.
_Wine, Woman and Song_ (_Wein, Weib und Gesang_), op. 333, opens with an
eloquent mood picture that is virtually an independent composition, even
though it offers suggestions of later melodies. This is a spacious
ninety-one bar introduction that serves as an eloquent peroration to the
four waltz melodies that follow—each graceful, vivacious, and at times
tender and contemplative. Richard Wagner, upon hearing Anton Seidl
conduct this music, was so moved by it that at one point he seized the
baton from Seidl’s hand and conducted the rest of the piece himself.
Strauss wrote other dance music besides waltzes. He was equally
successful in bringing his wonderful melodic invention, fine rhythmic
sense, and beautiful instrumentation to the Polka, the native Bohemian
dance in duple quick time and in a lively mood. The best of the Strauss
polkas are: _Annen-Polka_, op. 117; _Electrophor Polka_, op. 297
dedicated to the students of a Vienna technical school, its effect
derived from its breathless tempo and forceful dynamics; _Explosions
Polka_, op. 43, written when Strauss was only twenty-two and
characterized by sudden brief crescendos; _Pizzicato Polka_, written in
collaboration with the composer’s brother Josef, and, as the name
indicates, an exercise in plucked strings; and the capricious
_Tritsch-Tratsch_ (or _Chit-Chat_) _Polka_, op. 214.
Of Strauss’ other instrumental compositions, the best known is a lively
excursion in velocity called _Perpetual Motion_, op. 257, which the
composer himself described as a “musical jest.”
Beyond being Vienna’s waltz king, Johann Strauss II was also one of its
greatest composers of operettas. Indeed, if a vote were to be cast for
the greatest favorite among all Vienna operettas the chances are the
choice would fall on Strauss’ _Die Fledermaus_ (_The Bat_), first
produced in Vienna on April 5, 1874, book by Carl Haffner and Richard
Genée based on a French play by Meilhac and Halévy. This work is not
only a classic of the light theater, but even a staple in the repertory
of the world’s major opera houses. It is a piece of dramatic intrigue
filled with clever, bright and at times risqué humor, as well as irony
and gaiety. The plot, in line with operetta tradition, involves a love
intrigue: between Rosalinda, wife of Baron von Eisenstein, and Alfred.
The Baron is sought by the police for some slight indiscretion, and when
they come to the Baron’s home and find Alfred there, they mistake him
for the Baron and arrest him. Upon discovering he is supposed to be in
jail, the Baron decides to take full advantage of his liberty by
attending a masked ball at Prince Orlovsky’s palace and making advances
there to the lovely women. But one of the masked women with whom he
flirts is his own wife. Eventually, the identity of both is uncovered,
to the embarrassment of the Baron, and this merry escapade ends when the
Baron is compelled to spend his time in jail.
The overture is a classic, recreating the effervescent mood that
prevails throughout the operetta. It is made up of some of the principal
melodies of the opera: Rosalinda’s lament, “_So muss allein ich
bleiben_” first heard in the woodwind; the chorus, “_O je, o je, wie
ruhrt mich dies_” in the strings; and most important of all, the main
waltz of the operetta and the climax of the second act, also in the
strings.
Other delightful episodes frequently presented in instrumental versions
include the lovely drinking song, “_Trinke, Liebchen, trinke schnell_”;
the laughing song of the maid, Adele, “_Mein Herr Marquis_”; the
blood-warming czardas of the “Hungarian countess” who is actually
Rosalinda in disguise, “_Klaenge der Heimat_”; the stirring hymn to
champagne, “_Die Majistaet wird anerkannt_”; and the buoyant waltz, “_Du
und du_.”
_The Gypsy Baron_ (_Die Ziguenerbaron_) is almost as popular as _Die
Fledermaus_. This is an operetta with libretto by Ignaz Schnitzer,
introduced in Vienna on October 24, 1885. Sandór Barinkay returns to his
ancestral home after having left it as a child. He finds it swarming
with gypsies who have made it their home, and he falls in love with one
of them, Saffi.
The overture is made up of material from the concerted finales,
beginning with the entrance of the gypsies in the first finale;
continuing with Saffi’s celebrated gypsy air, “_So elend und treu_”; and
culminating with the celebrated waltz music of the second act, the
_Schatz_, or _Treasure_, waltzes.
Other familiar excerpts include Sandór’s exuberant aria with chorus from
the first act “_Ja, das alles auf Ehr_,” probably the most celebrated
vocal excerpt from the entire operetta; and the _Entry March_
(_Einzugmarsch_) from the third act—for chorus and orchestra in the
operetta, but often given by salon ensembles in an orchestral version.